


18+!!! On Ice Bingo Collection

by DawnOfTomorrow



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: This is a collection of short drabbles and one shots for the Bingo challenge. Each chapter is a stand-alone piece corresponding to one of the squares in my Bingo card.1. Fanboy2. Sleeping Prince3. Born to Win4. Bathroom Stall5. Engagement Rings6. Rentboy or Hooker7. Canon: Pre-Canon8. Rivalry9. Language Barriers10. Volunteer Work (AU)11. Fan Service12. Forced Bed Sharing
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 31
Kudos: 55





	1. Fanboy

**Author's Note:**

> My Bingo Card:
> 
> I won't edit the card even if I end up writing a few more of the prompts - this is what it was on the 31st of December 2019 at 23:59 GMT.
> 
> Happy New Year's everyone!

Yuuri had always been Victor’s fan. Obvious, really. He was what had pulled Yuuri towards skating, what had made him realise he was gay. There were – as people (Victor) liked to remind him – a LOT of posters still stashed in his room. There was signed fan memorabilia, keychains, a photo collection on his laptop.

Nothing weird – just a collection of his favourite moments of Victor on a podium. Of course, they didn’t compare to the real thing, to the view of Victor a step below him, BEAMING up at him holding a silver medal.

It wasn’t a sight Yuuri would ever forget, but he wasn’t about to just delete the folder either – it was too sentimental. All things considered, it was no secret that Yuuri was a fanboy.

What WAS surprising – to everyone, including Yuuri, was HOW MUCH WORSE Victor was.

Describing Victor as Yuuri’s fanboy was an incredible understatement. During their initial stay together, when they’d been suspended in the awkward early stages of their relationship… Yuuri hadn’t known that Victor had already been his fan.

He hadn’t known that even then Victor had already been collecting memorabilia, had already established his own little ‘Yuuri corner’ in his flat back in Russia.

He’d had no idea.

In all fairness, he couldn’t have known, but even after they got together, he didn’t get a clue for quite some time. Months went by – a whole other season before he finally decided, on a whim, to open a closet in Victor’s bedroom that always seemed to be closed.

He had no idea what he’d find (he’d expected clothes) but it certainly wasn’t the collection of rolled-up posters, the box of pins and badges, the sticker book, or the plushies. He hadn’t even known any of that stuff existed – as it turned out, Victor had bought most of it on Etsy.

Yuuri found THAT out when moments after he opened the door to that closet, Victor happily bounced into the room, followed by Makka. He expected Victor to be mad, but the Russian was anything but. He was surprised, actually, surprised that Yuuri had lived in that place for so long and had had no idea.

He was proud of his collection and frequently added to it. Yuuri did too, but he did so silently, embarrassed every time he bought another poster. He slept next to the man – he didn’t need posters.

Of course, he bought them anyway. Secretly.

Victor wasn’t like that. He’d frequently and happily announce that he’d bought a Yuuri mug, or a Yuuri water bottle, or a Yuuri phone case. He had ZERO shame. The only thing that made this slightly tolerable was the fact that he seemed to mostly keep it private – he never spoke to anyone other than Yuuri about it all.

Yuri Plisetsky knew as well, but only because he’d gone snooping in the bedroom at one point, and immediately come out screeching about ‘gross stuff’ he’d found. Yuuri had nearly fainted, had thought that little Yuri had found their OTHER stash – one they contributed to evenly, and that was kept under the bed.

Five minutes of hissing and snarling later, he rather thought he’d have preferred it if Plisetsky had found their kinky box instead.

Alas, no.

Yuri never brought it up again – small mercies.

As for Yuuri – once the initial shock had worn off, he’d readily admitted defeat. It was undeniable that, by all accounts, Victor Nikiforov was a bigger fanboy than Yuuri could ever hope to be.

And if Yuuri secretly liked that, occasionally sent Victor links to merch, and even occasionally peeked at Victor’s collection to remind himself that of all the people Victor could have picked he chose HIM, Yuuri Katsuki… well, who was to know?


	2. Sleeping Prince

Victor loved watching Yuuri sleep. It was a reminder that the younger man was only human. Sure, Victor knew that of course, but it didn’t feel that way. The way he skated, his insane stamina both on the ice and off it… no, a little reminder that Yuuri was as human as he was was good.

Laying next to Yuuri snoozing was one of his favourite things to do on his days off. Conditioned through decades of waking up early, he usually woke with the sun – Yuuri didn’t.

They had a lovely little routine, actually. Victor would wake up, stretch, roll over to look at Yuuri who had, inevitably, splayed out like a starfish on their bed. He’d squirm closer to the Japanese man who would immediately snuggle up to him, giving him free rein to watch Yuuri’s sleeping face.

Yuuri wasn’t an attractive sleeper any more than he was an attractive cryer – it was okay for naps, but overnight he would inevitably sleep with his mouth open, drooling a little and sometimes pulling weird faces. Victor LOVED the faces.

Yuuri would sometimes grunt in his sleep or even mumble individual words – it was the cutest thing. Sure, Victor would rather hear his own name than Katsudon, but the other man’s fondness for the dish was part of what made him cute.

Another advantage of watching Yuuri sleep was that inevitably, he would wake up at some point, and that meant that Victor could watch him blink the sleep away, yawn and stretch – usually right before Yuuri would scold him for watching him again.

The other man didn’t like it, but he wasn’t about to stop. It was just too cute. Plus, in a stroke of genius, he’d come up with the perfect excuse – Yuuri had had years to watch him, so it was only fair that he got to do some catching up now.

Whenever he used that line, Yuuri would groan in frustration and roll over, stealing all of the blankets and turning himself into a giant cocoon. That sparked a different routine – Makka took it as a signal that Yuuri was CLEARLY in distress and needed rescuing from the evil comforter. In other words, the poodle would jump on Yuuri and dig him out of the blankets, until both him and Yuuri were out of breath from laughing too much.

Victor liked all of that but getting to watch Yuuri sleep was still his favourite part of their days off. Musing on just that as he watched Yuuri climb out of bed and effortlessly bend at the hip to pick a pillow off the floor that Makka had knocked off, he seamlessly corrected himself – his SECOND favourite part.

“Yuuuuri! Do you want to take a shower together?”


	3. Born to Win

Yuri Plisetsky didn’t believe in fate. It just wasn’t his thing. All that embarrassing, mushy stuff… no. He was Russian. He believed in hard work, talent and cats. That was all he needed. It annoyed him when media touted Victor as being a born winner, as being a natural and all that.

It wasn’t true. There was nothing natural about the gruelling training Victor put himself through to make it look effortless. It was hard work, and Yuri saw that every day. He admired it, even if he didn’t like the man.

Who would?

Victor was annoying.

Then Yuuri entered their lives. Yuuri Katsuki was… well, in Yuri’s eyes, he was a MUCH better skater than Victor ever would be, not that he’d admit that out loud. Training with his namesake was better than with Victor – he didn’t taunt, didn’t make fun, just encouraged.

Yuri wasn’t interested in that sappy stuff, but it was nice to be treated as an equal, rather than a baby. He wasn’t THAT much younger – almost an adult. Yuuri treated him that way and he appreciated it.

He even gave the man some of his granddad’s piroshki every now and again, not that he knew what that even meant. Of course not – he was too busy fawning over Victor. It was disgusting. Sickening. Nauseating. Revolting.

Yuri had actually learned new words just to be able to describe HOW awful it was, that’s how awful it was.

The two skaters still trained hard, harder than most ever did (not him, he trained MUCH harder of course), but he hated how they still flirted ALL the time. They shouldn’t have time for that with their schedules, but somehow, they did. Yuri hated it.

What he hated even more, was how little it bothered him some days. It seemed, loathe as he was to admit it, like was natural to them. Within days of Yuuri arriving in St.Petersburg, everyone loved him. That wasn’t so surprising. Yuri knew the Katsuki-effect well enough. What WAS surprising is that all the fawning and flirting… seemed right for those two. Of course, it was ridiculous – there was nothing right about how those two grown men were acting.

Plus, he didn’t believe in stuff like the ‘fate’ Victor liked to babble about whenever Yuuri landed a jump or god forbid, winked at Victor from the rink side.

Fate wasn’t real.

It just wasn’t. It wasn’t fate that had made him such a great skater, and it certainly wasn’t fate that had led them all together… except sometimes, just a bit, it seemed like maybe it was possible. Like maybe fate played a role after all in bringing those two together.

Naturally, whenever such thoughts encroached, Yuri got rid of them by training EXTRA hard – he didn’t have time for such nonsense. He had medals to win, and he wasn’t about to let two love-drunk saps snatch his titles from him.

Not when they were being so disgusting.

Again.

Cursing under his breath, Yuri sped up to launch into another jump – he’d perfect his quads before the next season, distractions be damned. Victor and Yuuri weren’t his concern – skating was. He’d beat their ‘fated love’ with hard work, and maybe then they’d shut up.

Probably not, but maybe, with enough gold medals, he might be able to drown out the squealing a little.

That… was something at least.


	4. Bathroom Stall

Yuuri stood in front of a familiar bright red door. It was the door to a bathroom stall – second from the door. He’d spent some time staring at it, clearly confusing a fair few of the people that had come and gone since he’d entered.

He knew the door well – it was the one that Yuri Plisetsky had kicked open over a year ago when he’d heard Yuuri cry in there. He wasn’t sure, but he rather thought that he could still make out a scuff mark from the heavy boots the young Russian had been wearing. He was probably wrong, the door was scratched up plenty after all… but still.

The last time he’d found himself in that particular bathroom, facing that particular door, he’d been convinced his career was over, he’d been desperate, crushed… rock bottom.

It was from that moment on, that his life had moved upwards again. Of course, he hadn’t known at the time, nor had he even realised. By all rights, his awful performance on the ice prior to his visit to that bathroom should have been rock bottom, but to him, it wasn’t.

It was that bathroom stall.

Now he was back – in the same location, though everything else was different. He had won silver at the Grand Prix. He’d competed and come face-to-face with Victor Nikiforov. His idol hadn’t found him lacking, he’d recognised Yuuri’s potential and had succeeded in drawing it out well past the point he himself had thought possible.

He was back in the same place, yet everything had changed – for the better.

“OY! Old man! How long are you going to take in there!”

With a more than familiar snarl, Yuri Plisetsky pushed open the bathroom door.

“Oh, I’m ready. Sorry I took so long.”

“What are you doing here?” The young Russian asked, huffing at the bathroom.

“Oh, nothing. Just… thinking.”

“You’re not feeling sorry for yourself again, are you?” His namesake asked, squinting at him in obvious suspicion.

“N-No? I was just… it’s nothing. Let’s go?”

“Finally.”

With that, Plisetsky lifted his left foot and kicked the door – not the door to the stall, but the door he’d just entered the bathroom through.

Following with a weak grin, Yuuri shook his head. It seemed that some things didn’t change after all.


	5. Engagement Rings

Picking the right ring was important – that’s what women’s magazines and the diamond industry agreed on. Yuuri wasn’t an expert, really, but surely that many people couldn’t be wrong? Of course, that wasn’t exactly GOOD for Yuuri, because he had NO IDEA how to pick the right ring.

By all rights, he should.

He’d been with Victor for seven years. They’d worn those plain, gold bands for years now, and he knew Victor better than anyone ever had. He knew what the Russian liked. He knew what he didn’t like. He could, off the top of his head, name every single dish Victor liked, and the handful he didn’t.

He KNEW the man.

What he didn’t know was the rings.

He’d decided that, after their tumultuous first engagement and consequent hectic marriage in-between seasons, they needed a do-over. As an anniversary gift, he was going to propose to Victor again, have them renew their vows in a more appropriate (read: romantic) setting.

The first step to that was getting rings, but Yuuri had no idea what to do. He felt like he’d looked at every ring in Russia and Japan, and absolutely nothing had screamed ‘Victor Nikiforov’ the way he’d hoped.

It ate him up – was a spontaneously bought pair of rings really the best he could do? Surely not.

Shoulders drooping in exhaustion and disappointment, he headed home in the cold December air when another little shop caught his eye – a jewellery shop that hadn’t showed up on Google Maps for him. He didn’t even hesitate before heading in and greeting the owner. The store only had a few displays, and Yuuri scanned them for rings – there weren’t many.

In still somewhat broken Russian, he asked the man for some recommendations. The old man dutifully collected a few trays of rings and presented them to Yuuri. He looked over them all, tired and weary. Nothing that jumped out at him, really.

Just like before.

Idly playing with his own gold band, he sighed in disappointment. To his surprise, the old jeweller asked about his own ring and asked to see it. Yuuri showed him readily – it was nothing too fancy. The old man seemed quite pleased by the material, praising the craftsmanship and the finish on it.

Yuuri polished it regularly – it was one of his most prized possessions after all. Even his World’s Gold (hung next to Victor’s silver from that year) couldn’t compete. He was surprisingly happy that the old Russian acknowledged the ring appropriately.

Among the chatter about the ring, Yuuri nearly missed some of what the man said – one word caught his attention though.

“Engraving?”

To his surprise, the jeweller’s face lit up and he spent the next ten minutes listening to a variety of suggestions the old man had on things he could have engraved on their bands. The longer he listened, the more he liked the idea.

The ring didn’t need to be anything new – their relationship wasn’t. It just needed to mean something to them both, and it needed to represent their ever-changing relationship and the way it had evolved and grown over the years. Building on what they’d begun with seemed… it seemed perfect.

The old man was happy to work on both their rings for a small fee – less than Yuuri had thought, and significantly less than he planned to tip the man. Really, all he had to do was deliver the second ring and pick a design.

It wasn’t long before Yuuri left the little store with a business card in his pocket and a smile on his face, his exhaustion practically blown away.


	6. Rentboy or Hooker

Yuuri was still laughing. His stomach hurt, his sides were on fire and he was pretty sure there were tears streaming down his face, but he just couldn’t help it. With every moment that passed, Victor’s pout grew bigger, while Makka just got more and more confused with her humans.

He couldn’t blame her – it wasn’t really a common sight, what with Yuuri sitting on the floor wheezing and Victor pouting like a kid who had been told ‘no more sugar’. That thought alone made his laughing worse, to the point where Yuuri nearly choked on his laughter.

“It’s NOT funny!” Victor petulantly protested, setting Yuuri off yet again.

“I-It is! I-It de-finite-ly is!” He managed to choke out in between giggles, nodding his head. Victor was wrong – it was probably the funniest thing he’d ever witnessed in his twenty-odd years on the planet.

“Yuuuri! How can you say something like that! Is that what you think of me?” For a moment, Yuuri nearly caved to the puppy-eyed look Victor had given him… then he remembered the concierge at their hotel, and he was once again laughing.

They were in a fancy hotel in the North of Tokyo, for one of Yuuri’s competitions – the national circuit, nothing too huge, and nothing for Victor to take part in. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from showing up and cheering Yuuri on anyway – and of course, they shared a hotel room.

If they hadn’t, Yuuri wouldn’t have stayed in such a fancy hotel – and they wouldn’t be in the situation they were in right now.

Slowly, his laughter died down and gave way to a few soft chuckles instead. “Victor, it’s not a big deal! Don’t be so upset!”

“Upset? Upset?? Of course I’m upset! I can’t believe that man!” The man in question was the older gentleman that had manned the front desk upon their arrival back at the hotel after the competition. He was quite short, dressed in the hotel-uniform suit and had politely greeted Yuuri upon his return.

He wasn’t the same one that had checked them in a few hours prior – that had been a starry-eyed young lady that had asked for both his and Victor’s autograph. Flustered, Yuuri had nevertheless signed the slip of paper she’d given him – as had Victor.

Unlike her, the older gentleman clearly didn’t recognise Victor – he’d known Yuuri on sight, had congratulated him for his success, but Victor… well, that was rather the reason Yuuri was currently wheezing next to the bed in their room.

He’d made it all the way to the elevator with a straight face, but by the time they had arrived on the seventh floor and headed towards their room, he’d been fighting snorts of laughter already, and as soon as Victor had unlocked the door, he had completely lost it.

Victor in the meantime had barely spoken a word unless you counted indignant sputtering and a shocked gasp while Yuuri had cleared up the misunderstanding. Yuuri had half expected him to throw a tantrum, but the older man seemed to have enough restraint to stick to just pouts.

All things considered, Yuuri was lucky – he didn’t dare imagine what sort of a scene they may have ended up with if Victor HAD decided to speak up. He couldn’t even really blame his partner – the concierge’s words HAD been pretty… outrageous.

“HOW can you be laughing at this? It’s… I’ve NEVER been so offended!” Going by his facial expression, Yuuri almost believed him – he would have, had he not known just how dramatic the other man could be.

“It’s not a big deal! He just made a mistake!” His previous attempts to calm the man down hadn’t helped much – he didn’t hold out much hope that this one would either.

“Yuuuuri!”

Sighing, Yuuri gingerly got up – his sides still hurt from laughing so much. Victor was standing in front of the window, his sleek silk-shirt partly unbuttoned, hair mussed from running his hands through it, and his lip gloss lightly smudged. He could sort of see where the man had been coming from.

Yuuri disguised his next laugh as a cough.

“Look, I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude! He just… well, it’s hotel policy not to allow that sort of thing in the rooms, okay?”

“Policy? POLICY?” With a huff, Victor dropped onto the bed, immediately flopping onto his side, head propped up with one arm.

Yuuri cleared his throat.

“Victor please – It’s not that bad!”

“Not…not that bad? Yuuri! He was going to ban me from my own room!”

“Look, any respectable hotel is going to have rules about that sort of thing, and he was just doing his job. If anything, you should take it as a compliment. That he thought… you know.”

Victor’s shocked gasp nearly set him off again. Trying his hardest to keep a straight face, Yuuri sat on the bed next to his lover.

“A compliment? HE CALLED ME YOUR HOOKER!”

Yuuri burst out laughing, falling back on the bed. There was just no helping it.


	7. Canon: Pre-Canon

Mari huffed – taking her little brother to the rink would never be her favourite activity. He was old enough to skate on his own, but, according to their mother, not old enough to go there on his own. It was Hasetsu for god’s sake – nothing was going to happen.

Nothing EVER happened in Hasetsu.

Watching her brother bounce along the bridge in the cold December air was cute, but it was also boring. It was Christmas – she had no idea why her family had made her take him today of all days. She hadn’t really listened when Yuuri had babbled about Victor’s birthday – she loved her brother, but she didn’t care about his obsession with that Russian at all.

She had her own hobbies and interests – ice skating was not one of them. Quickly texting her friends while she walked, she practically counted the seconds until they got to the rink. Yuuri immediately zoomed off to put his skates on, while she waved at Yuuko, the daughter of the rink owners.

Yuuko was a year younger than her, making her two years older than Yuuri – they got along fairly well. They probably would get along better if Yuuko wasn’t as obsessed with Victor Niliforv – or whatever his name was – as Yuuri.

Leaning against the rink barrier, she shrugged – at least they had a shared interest, and it meant Yuuri had someone to fangirl with other than her. She tried to take an interest, she really had, but she just didn’t get it. Wearing weird spandex costumes and twirling to boring classical music? No way.

She much preferred boy bands, especially the drummers. She didn’t know what it was about them, but she just had a thing for them. She and her friends followed several different J-Pop and J-Rock bands – in fact, some of their songs were frequently set as her ringtones.

She was reminded of this when her phone buzzed – a text from their parents. Opening it, she quickly scanned it – could she please film Yuuri skating, or at least take some pictures, they were just too busy at the onsen.

Sighing, she switched to the camera and waited for her little brother to come to the ice – of course she’d film him for them. She didn’t have to wait long – camera pointed at the entrance, she could hear the distinct patter and clunking of Yuuri wobbling on his skates.

Indeed, he appeared moments later – Mari nearly dropped her phone in shock. Apparently someone (she suspected their mother, who was the biggest enabler ever) had bought Yuuri an ice skating costume. It didn’t fit him right at all, and it was bunched up pretty badly, but still.

She could see how glowing Yuuri was with it on, and after a second she recognised the peacock theme and colouring – it was a replica of an outfit that Victor had worn in a competition.

She knew because Yuuri had a poster of him wearing it right next to the window. Trying her hardest to keep a straight face, she gave her brother a thumbs-up as he worked off his skate guards and skated out on the otherwise empty rink.

He looked ridiculous, but she wasn’t about to tell him that – not when she could see how much fun he was having. Smiling to herself, she made sure to catch all the spins and twirls her brother worked on so hard.

Sure, it wasn’t what she could consider fun, but it was clear that her brother loved it – it also made her glad that she’d gotten him the present that she’d bought. Being a very last-minute shopper, she’d ended up grabbing the first thing she’d thought he’d enjoy – a replica of an official Team Japan jersey, in Yuuri’s size. It would no doubt look even more ridiculous with that costume, but she was equally sure that she’d see him wear it to the rink from now on.

Quickly mailing the video to her parents, she took a few quick photos as well – those ones were for her. Some day, Yuuri would bring home a girl (or boy, she thought, watching him in his peacock dress) and then, once he had outgrown his Victor-obsession, she’d show that person just how ridiculous Yuuri had been as a kid – it would be her revenge for having to take him to the rink all the time.


	8. Rivalry

Yuri had never wanted a rival. That was the kind of unnecessary drama that he preferred to avoid. Sure, other Yuuri and Victor had their thing going, and that was fine, but he didn’t want any part of that. He just wanted to work hard, skate and win medals.

That was it.

So, it was particularly annoying that he had his own Japanese hangers-on lately. Two years after Victor’s break-season, as he called it, one Minami Kenjirou had joined the same tournament circuit he was on, and Yuri HATED it.

The boy was only a year younger than him, yet they couldn’t be more different. Minami loved EVERYTHING. Skating, snow, ice, rain, sunshine, food… everything. It was draining just being near him, yet he didn’t have much choice, given that they shared a rink several months out of the year.

The most disgusting part of it was definitely his obsession with his namesake though. Minami was always an 11 on a scale of 10, but when Yuuri Katsuki appeared, he turned into a 13. It made him want to ‘accidentally’ skate over him someday.

Grinding his teeth as another squeal announced the arrival of Katsuki – and thus likely Victor – he tried to focus on his skating.

He definitely didn’t want anything to do with Minami, yet the media had apparently decided that they were rivals. He didn’t see it. He was consistently better than the Japanese boy – sure, once or twice they’d had similar scores, but Minami had NEVER beaten him.

Despite this, he frequently read online posts and the like about how his friendship and rivalry with the other skater was touching.

It wasn’t.

He did his best to avoid him whenever possible, and where it wasn’t possible, he snarked at him in hopes of making him go away. It didn’t work – sulking and pouting was as far as he got, and whenever THAT happened, inevitably the other Yuuri would scold him.

Him!

As if it was HIS fault that the other skater wouldn’t leave him alone. If anything, Katsuki should feel bad for HIM, not for that brat. Victor, in the meantime, was no help at all, and just snickered every time Yuri snarled. It wasn’t fair. No, not fair at all.

What it was was annoying – and nobody except for him seemed to see it. Not even Potya – when, after what he could only assume to be a stroke, he’d invited Minami to his flat, his cat had actually LIKED the boy. To his horror, Potya had rolled up on his lap and purred – he had NEVER felt so betrayed by an animal.

He’d complained to Victor the next day, but he should have really known better – the Russian just awwwed at their ‘budding friendship’. There was no friendship. He was friends with Beka – Beka, who seemed to partly understand his suffering. At least, he didn’t coo and aww like everyone else did and instead agreed when Yuri complained to him about the Japanese skater.

Now THAT was a real friend – not someone who stole piroshkis. Yuri KNEW it had been Minami – even Victor wasn’t bold enough to take any of his piroshkis. His only solace was skating – every time he defeated the blond skater, he felt validated.

He was definitely better than the other, and hopefully, at some point, if he just defeated him often enough, people would stop talking about their ‘rivalry’ and all that nonsense.


	9. Language Barriers

It was funny – despite the fact that both of them spoke perfect English, and each had picked up some Japanese and Russian as well, they still had the funniest miscommunications sometimes. He loathed to call it a language barrier – it WASN’T – but still.

Staring down at the weird little ovals slathered in cream cheese and caviar of all things, he really had to wonder which part of ‘I want pancakes’ had confused Victor into serving him… well, whatever it was he was looking at.

It had been the Russian’s turn to make them breakfast that morning, and Yuuri had woken up with a hankering for pancakes, syrup and all. He LOVED American pancakes, and he even knew that Victor had both jam and syrup in his kitchen. He’d SEEN them.

What was on his plate though, that had nothing to do with pancakes. He lightly poked one of the ovals – they were cold. Cold pancakes with cream cheese caviar and, from the looks of it, smoked salmon?

It was time to put a stop to this travesty.

“Vitya… when I said pancakes, I meant American ones? Big, fluffy and with jam?”

The Russian looked up at him in complete bafflement.

“You want… what? Jam on pancakes? Yuuri that’s horrible!”

* * *

Victor was squinting at his lover from across the room. He loved Yuuri, he really did, but sometimes he wondered whether he knew him at all. He’d batted his eyes at the other earlier, moaning about how Yuuri had _worn him out_ and how badly he wanted some sweetened tea… but nothing could have prepared him for what he was looking at.

He knew Yuuri kept a varied selection of tea in their home. He occasionally dipped into the supply if he fancied something other than black, but still.

That was no excuse for what he was looking at. He had already not really been impressed when Yuuri had started making matcha – while he didn’t hate it, it certainly wasn’t his favourite. That paled in comparison to what he was looking at now though.

Yuuri had fished his bottle of maple syrup from the second-highest shelf and he was ADDING SOME TO THE TEA. He still remembered Yuuri’s indignant squawk when he’d first served him tea with jam in it – the Japanese skater had come around quickly enough, but maple syrup in matcha? That was a whole different animal.

“Yuuri? What… what are you doing?”

“Hm? You wanted sweet tea, right?”

“I… yes? But sweet like sugar or jam sweet? And… not matcha?” Clearing his throat, he did his best to smile at the other man, despite the strong scent the green tea was emitting.

“Oh! I made this since you said you were exhausted. It’s supposed to give you back your energy.” With those words, Yuuri brought him one of the two mugs he’d prepared, and Victor accepted it awkwardly.

Truthfully, he’d only said that so he could watch Yuuri strut through their kitchen half-naked… he really needed to come up with a better excuse next time.

Sipping some of the tea, he also made a mental note to put the maple syrup on a shelf out of Yuuri’s reach. Matcha with maple syrup was banned. Yuuri had banned his blini, calling them ‘not really pancakes’, so it was only fair.


	10. Volunteer Work

Victor had always wanted a family. As a gay man in Russia, he didn’t have much hope of this particular dream coming true anytime soon.

He focused on other things instead. His job at the bank, his dog. That… was it, really. Not particularly long of a list, but that was fine. He was fine. He didn’t really have any hobbies – the last one he’d had had been ice skating, many years ago.

He’d given it up at the behest of his mother, who’d encouraged him to focus on his studies instead, as well as his school friends, who teased him for having a girly hobby.

Focusing on studying had paid off – he was successful, wealthy even… and alone.

That in itself wasn’t so bad. He had Makka, and his dog made it infinitely more bearable. It was the boredom that often got to him, that nagged in the back of his mind and wanted him to just do something, anything.

So, he found himself looking for something to spend his time on, a distraction. A newspaper gave him some inspiration in that regard – there was a feature on volunteering opportunities. It seemed perfect – he could devote a set amount of time to it without having to worry about neglecting his work.

If he could support a good cause at the same time, that just made it better. He scanned the paper for suitable opportunities and was surprised to find dozens of options. Only three of them, though, really worked with his schedule.

The first one was at a skating rink – he dismissed it immediately. He didn’t care for reminders of the hobby he’d once enjoyed, not to mention he’d be teaching kids, which would also remind him of the family he couldn’t have. Definitely not.

The second opportunity was at a pet shelter – great at first glance, except that he immediately started worrying that Makka would get jealous, and he just couldn’t do that. So, that left him with the last opportunity – a children’s charity needed an admin assistant. He was perfectly qualified, and they had a pretty low requirement when it came to hours needed as well.

He noted down the details and decided to head there in person – emails were too impersonal. Plus, he needed to get out a bit anyway. The place was in walking distance, luckily.

He had made it about halfway there when something caught his eye – a foreigner. While that wasn’t terribly unusual in and of itself, something about this one caught his eye. The Asian man was quite attractive – he liked dark hair, and this man’s tousled mop was exactly his type.

After allowing himself to check him out for a long moment, he shook himself off and decided he should be on his way. Of course, at that exact moment, said foreigner turned and their eyes met across the open square they were in.

The chocolate brown eyes were electric, and he suddenly felt pinned in place, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. Some indescribable soft feeling spread through his body when a heartbeat later, the man smiled broadly. For a second he thought it was directed at him, but he almost immediately realised it wasn’t – a small child, no older than five, darted past him and immediately jumped into the man’s arms.

He smiled softly as he watched him lift her and spin her in a circle, both of them laughing happily. It was incredibly cute, and it made his heartache in a way he couldn’t explain. So the beautiful stranger had a kid – well, he’d never really thought he was gay anyway. Sighing, he turned away – it wouldn’t do him any good to keep staring.

He only got a few steps closer to his goal when something collided with his legs – looking down, he was surprised to see the man’s daughter staring up at him. She had run straight into him and was now staring up at him expectantly.

Victor felt like he’d missed something – what did the girl want?

“Sorry! Sorry! Mi-chan, you can’t just run into people like that! I’m so sorry! She’s just excited.” Victor cleared his throat – the man’s voice was as pleasant as he’d expected it to be, and he suddenly felt quite flustered.

“Oh, that’s okay.”

“But Daddy, he’s in the way!” The little girl complained, now holding her father’s hand.

“That’s no excuse! You can wait a few seconds longer, can’t you?”

“In… the way?” He asked, a little dumb-founded.

“Oh, we’re headed to the rink behind you.” The man explained. Victor hadn’t realised that his path lead him past a rink at all – turning around, he realised that the man was right. He’d come to a halt directly in front of the front gate.

Looking down at the little girl, he put on his brightest smile.

“Sorry about that! I’m on my way to a job interview, so I must have been spacing out!”

He expected their encounter to be over, but he was wrong – the little girls’ eyes lit up.

“Job? What sort of job? Daddy just started a new job!” Chuckling at her enthusiasm, he thought about how to best answer her question without making it sound as boring as it was.

“Ah, I’m going to be helping some people with their work in my free time, actually!” He exclaimed, pleased that he managed to skip words like ‘admin assistant’ and ‘paperwork’. No doubt, the little girl wouldn’t really understand that anyway – plus, she sounded so excited when asking that he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Oh? Are you here for the volunteer position then? I’m one of the full-time coaches at the rink. Nice to meet you, I’m Yuuri Katsuki.” Victor gulped as he stared down at the hand the beautiful stranger had extended towards him.

Awkwardly shaking it, he tried to work out what sort of misunderstanding he’d just walked into – then it clicked. He was standing at the rink from the newspaper, and the man before him worked there. He thought Victor was there for an interview.

Before he could correct the assumption, or even say anything at all, the man’s – no, Yuuri’s – daughter grabbed the edge of his coat and tugged. By all rights, that tug shouldn’t have affected him at all, but ne nearly fell over from shock.

“I’m Victor Nikiforov?” He replied, in lieu of literally anything sensible to say.

“Great! Nice to meet you Victor! Why don’t you come in and I can show you around? It’s a little messy since we only open in a few hours, but you can get an idea of what it’s like here for now.”

“Sure.” Victor replied, following after Yuuri and his daughter as if in a trance.

His heart was racing and he’d practically forgotten about the job he wanted to apply to – apparently, he was interviewing at the rink instead. Listening to Yuuri talk about the rink and nodding every now and again, he tried to keep up with was happening – without much success.

A few minutes later, he found himself on borrowed skates on the empty rink, along with Yuuri and his daughter. The young girl was, as it turned out, a fantastic skater – she skated circles around him easily.

Victor felt like a deer on ice – he was wobbly and awkward. Yuuri didn’t seem to mind though – he happily chattered away about the rink, skating, training and the help he needed. Listening to all of it, Victor had to admit that the opportunity was sort of… perfect for him.

The rink was even closer to his flat than the other place, and from what he could tell, he’d enjoy the work as well – manning the skate rental counter, occasionally helping out a coach with larger groups of kids and so on.

It seemed… great. After a few minutes of awkward fumbling, he got back into skating as well – although it had been years, apparently, his body remembered it better than he’d thought. It was quite exhilarating – just crossing the rink a few times made him feel more alive than he could ever remember.

He nearly missed it when Yuuri finished talking, and only barely caught his final words.

“-t do you think? Would you like to help us out here?”

“If you think I can do a good job, I’d love to.”

“Great! Why don’t you come with me so we can fill out some paperwork in the office then?” Nodding happily, he followed Yuuri to what turned out to be a small cramped office. It was perhaps half of the office space he had at his bank, yet he found it infinitely more charming – because of Yuuri of course.

Trying in vain to shake off the thoughts about the likely married man, he started filling in the paperwork Yuuri handed him. It was standard stuff – name, address, occupation, and availability. That done, he handed the form back to the other man who scanned over it quickly.

“Excuse me, but is it okay to leave your daughter alone on the ice?” Yuuri briefly looked up at him and chuckled. “Yes, it’s fine. She won’t be alone for long and she knows what she’s doing. She’s been skating her whole life!”

“Ah. How old is she?”

“Midori is about to turn seven.” He’d been right in his guess about her age then, but that actually raised another question for him – Yuuri seemed… well, he seemed extremely young to have a six-year-old daughter.

“You, uh, must have had her very young?”

The look Yuuri gave him was one of complete bafflement – he only realised how rude his question must have sounded a moment later.

To his relief, Yuuri just shrugged it off.

“She’s actually my sister’s. She, well, my sister died just after Midori was born, so I volunteered to adopt her. I’m only 23 myself, but we’ve been making it work.”

“Wow! That’s very impressive. I’m sorry for prying into your business.”

“No no, that’s okay! I can see why you thought she was mine. She’s only ever really known me as her parent, so she calls me dad.”

He nodded – it made sense. Of course, he felt awful for bringing up something so personal, however accidental it had been.

“She seems like a lovely girl.” He offered, hoping that it would smooth over the situation a little.

Yuuri perked up with what Victor could only describe as a ‘proud dad’ aura.

“She is! She’s really smart! She’s doing well in school and she likes skating as much as I do. We only moved here recently but she’s adapted really well. The rink belongs to some friends of my family and they were good enough to hire me – oh, sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No it’s okay! It’s great that you found a job here easily. It can’t be easy to move around with a young kid.”

“No, it isn’t, but we managed. What about you? Any kids?”

“Ah, no.” He winced a little, not that it was an inappropriate question. It just… stung.

“I see. Married? You left that box blank.” Yuuri pointed on the form he was holding. Victor hadn’t skipped it deliberately – he’d just missed it.

“Oh, no. I’m a bachelor! Sorry I forgot to tick the box.”

“No problem.”

“What about you? Is there a Mrs. Katsuki?” He asked, scrambling for a way to keep the conversation alive.

“There is.” Yuuri affirmed as he scanned the form more closely. Victor’s heart sank – it really wasn’t a surprise of course, that a man like this would be married, but still… “My mother.”

“Sorry?” Victor blinked in complete confusion.

To his surprise, Yuuri chuckled. “I’m not married. The only ‘Mrs. Katsuki I know of is my mum. Sorry, bad joke.”

Victor could hardly credit how relieved he felt, and how foolish. Grinning weakly, he tried to calm himself down – there really was no reason to get so involved here. Married or not, there was almost no chance of Yuuri being interested in him – although Japan wasn’t quite as intolerant of gay people as Russia was, it wasn’t much better either.

“Okay, it seems like your availability is actually a great match for my schedule. Would it be okay for you to mostly work with me? Midori and I are here more than the other coaches. She usually comes over after she does her homework.”

“That’s fine. Sounds great.”

Yuuri nodded and scribbled something on Victor’s form – he couldn’t quite make out what it was.

“Have you lived here long?” Yuuri asked after a few seconds of silence.

“Most of my life. I’ve been in that flat for…hm, maybe four years?” He was surprised how long it had been – he’d hardly noticed how many years had flown past.

“Fair enough. So, what do you do for fun around here?” Victor winced at the question – it made sense for Yuuri to ask him, but he couldn’t really answer, given that he had no idea.

“I’m not one for going out much. I usually just hang out with Makka in my free time.” He answered truthfully, hoping it wouldn’t make him sound as lame as he felt.

“Makka… a girlfriend?” Yuuri asked.

“What? NO! Makka is my poodle.” He corrected, quickly shaking his head. To his surprise, Yuuri’s eyes started sparkling immediately, and he practically leaned over the desk between them.

“You have a poodle? So do we! A little toy poodle! You’ll HAVE to show me all the best parks around here!” Victor nodded, dumbfounded. Yuuri had a poodle – how perfect could one human being be? Gulping at the way his heart skipped another beat, he reached for his phone.

“Do you… want to see some photos?” He offered, hoping Yuuri would accept.

He needn’t have worried – Yuuri all but vaulted the desk and leaned down next to where he was sitting to see his phone. Tapping through the folder that held the thousands of photos he had of Makka, he tried his best NOT to smell the soft pine scent that surrounded Yuuri – he really shouldn’t be smelling his new boss.

It wasn’t right.

Of course, said boss was acting like Makka was the most amazing dog he’d ever seen (not that she wasn’t – she was, Victor was sure), commenting on every photo Victor showed him, seemingly as interested as he had been in the first few.

A giggle interrupted them both a few dozen photos later – too high to be an adult’s, Victor looked up to see Midori standing in the door to the office. He hadn’t seen her there, and he instantly felt guilty, as if he was doing something wrong somehow – he wasn’t!

“Daddy, is Victor going to be your wife?” Midori asked, green eyes sparkling brightly.

Victor nearly choked on his own tongue, wheezing for air at the girl’s unexpected words. To his surprise, Yuuri immediately chattered to the girl in another language – Japanese, his mind supplied helpfully – while he tried to remember how to breathe. The girl eventually shuffled off, visibly miffed, leaving them alone again.

He was pretty close to figuring it out when a clearly concerned Yuuri bent down in front of him, a few inches too close for comfort.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry about that. She doesn’t know what’s appropriate sometimes.” Yuuri offered.

“Ah, no, it’s okay. I was just… surprised?” It came out as more of a question than he’d hoped for.

“No, that’s fair. Erm, there is something we should probably discuss though?” Yuuri leaned back, suddenly oddly… cautious, it seemed. Victor didn’t understand what he’d done wrong to put the other man on his guard like that, but he nodded and stood, stretching as he did so.

“Of course. What… is something wrong?” He asked, his tone a little awkward.

Yuuri cleared his throat.

“Erm, that depends. As I understand, Russia isn’t very… it’s not very accepted for two men to be together here, right?” Victor felt his stomach drop out of his body – at least it felt that way.

“No, it’s not.” He forced himself to keep his voice neutral – if Yuuri was about to dismiss him because he preferred men… he hoped he was misreading the situation.

“And do you share those… prejudices? I’d like to be honest – I prefer men, and if that’s going to be a problem, you might be better off finding a different place to volunteer at.” Yuuri’s words were sharp – he sounded as guarded as Victor felt.

It took him at least half a minute to process what he’d heard. With a sigh of relief, he let his shoulders droop.

“No, no it’s not a problem. At all. That would be very hypocritical of me.” He assured the other man. It seemed his own words took just as long to click with Yuuri as his had with him. To his amazement, Yuuri flushed a lovely shade of red and laughed awkwardly when they did.

“Oh. That’s… that’s good then. So, we’re good?”

“Yes.”

“Then… would you like to walk our dogs together sometime?” Yuuri asked after an excruciatingly painful silence that probably only lasted a few seconds. “N-Not as a date or anything! Just, uhm, if you’d like to…” Yuuri was getting visibly flustered the more he spoke – it was beyond endearing.

“I’d love to. As a date or otherwise.”

His heart was racing at his bold words, but Victor decided he might as well take the chance – Yuuri’s revelation and subsequent reaction to him had made him suspect that maybe the other man wasn’t entirely unaffected by him either. It felt like he was finally finding some ground to stand on again – a relief.

“Uhm… yes?” Yuuri said, clearly flustered still.

“Yes to what? A date or not a date?” He prodded, now mostly teasing.

“Yes?” Yuuri repeated, and before he could tease him any further, Midori’s voice interrupted them again.

“Daaaad! We need to open, there are people waiting!”

Victor’s shoulders sank – well, they could discuss the details of their ‘Yes’ later. He was certainly down for whatever ‘Yes’ Yuuri had in mind.


	11. Fan Service

Yuuri wondered sometimes, about those international reporters. He was used to being interviewed, but he’d probably never get used to some of the questions asked by foreign reporters. Japanese ones asked the same questions, usually – how was he doing, how did he feel about his performance, what were his plans and so on.

He was used to that. He’d learned to take personal questions in stride as well – Americans often asked about his favourite foods, his favourite rink and how he felt about the competition – those weren’t so bad either.

The interview he was in now though – that was its own kind of hell. The reporter – a German, as far as he understood it, had asked him a question he legitimately didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean by fan service?” He asked, hoping she would explain so he could, well, actually answer.

To his embarrassment, instead of an explanation from the reporter, the two men by his side started laughing. He wasn’t sure what amused Victor and Chris so much – the gold and bronze medallists he had shared the podium with were practically howling with laughter, while he was just… confused.

The reporter, meanwhile, was smiling at him, but she seemed to be fighting a laugh as well.

“Well, Mr. Katsuki, fan service is… uh… well, will you and Mr. Nikiforov be kissing again at World’s?” Her voice was growing more and more strained with each word, much like Yuuri who still had no idea what was going.

What did fan service have to do with kissing, and more importantly, how was any of that related to the Grand Prix they were supposed to be talking about?

“Well, of course? I’ll be kissing him between then and now too?” He answered, unsure of what to say. Clearly, it was the wrong thing, since Victor and Chris lost it even harder and even the reporter was chuckling a fair bit.

“Yuuri, darling, she means whether we’ll kiss on screen again, for the cameras!” Victor wheezed out in between laughs. That didn’t really clear things up either.

“For the cameras? I’ve never kissed you for the cameras though?” That didn’t make sense to him at all. Victor’s laughter died down, replaced with a shocked wheeze – at least that’s what it seemed like. Victor was suddenly flushing pink the way he did when he was either embarrassed or… well, flustered.

Neither made a lot of sense here. Had he said something wrong? Misunderstood something? It didn't help that Chris was only laughing louder now, while the reporter seemed a little flustered as well.

Pulled from his thoughts by the reporter clearing her throat rather loudly, he was surprised when she winked at him. He really WAS missing something, wasn’t he?

“Well, there you have it folks, live from the Grand Prix finale – Yuuri Katsuki is once again being his normal smooth self!”


	12. Forced Bed Sharing

Yuuri didn’t mind sharing his bed. He really didn’t – why would he? Who WOULD mind sharing a bed with Victor Nikiforov?

As it turned out, him. He, Yuuri Katsuki was SICK of it.

Not of sleeping with Victor, but of the fact that the man insisted on sharing his tiny single bed. In Russia, it was fine. Hotels? No problem. No, it was specifically in his little room back home in Hasetsu that his husband’s insistence on sleeping in the same bed bothered him.

Makka was bad enough, being the large poodle that she was, but Victor on top of her… no.

Unfortunately, the Russian didn’t care.

It didn’t matter how often Yuuri told him to stay in his futon or to leave him be for just ONE night – not a chance. The second he fell asleep, Victor crawled in with him. Inevitably, he’d wake up halfway through the night with a mouthful of hair – human or canine, sometimes both.

He’d overheat under his triple-blanket, and given just how good Victor was at hugs, well, squirming away wasn’t an option.

Waking the man wasn’t either – not because he felt bad, he really didn’t but because it was surprisingly difficult to wake him up once he was asleep. So, he usually put up with it, comforted only by the fact that Victor got up earlier than he did, and so he got a few hours of precious sleep on his own.

He’d tried everything.

Asking. Beginning. Ordering. Bargaining. Yelling. Hiding.

Nothing helped. Victor would find him, and with some sort of sixth sense, the man would know when Yuuri was asleep and crawl in with him.

He was close to resigning to his fate, held up only by his natural stubbornness and the fact that he didn’t want to lose to Victor, dammit, when a solution occurred to him. That night, after going to bed and firmly telling Victor to stay out of his bed, he waited a few minutes before doing something he hadn’t done since his teenage years – he carefully, quietly crept through his window onto the roof out front. It wasn’t very steep but it was slippery, so he was careful not to slip.

It was surprisingly easy to accomplish – in no time at all, he was around the house. As a boy, he’d have snuck down via the fence and darted off to the rink, but now he just wanted one thing: Sleep. Creeping along the roof a little further, he located the right room and peeked over the edge of the roof – indeed, there it was. Victor’s room.

Perfect. His parents still made up the futon in the little banquet hall every time they visited. Now it lay empty. Victor was no doubt about to sneak into Yuuri’s bed as he usually fell asleep around that time.

Carefully, he swung himself down from the roof – it was much easier, now that he was fully grown – and hopped into the room through the window. Makka was gone too – perfect. Smiling to himself, he crawled into the cool futon and stretched out – much better.

He was out like a light.

* * *

Yuuri was woken by quiet sniffles – he felt disoriented. A glance out the window revealed that it wasn’t even sunrise yet. Looking around, it took him a moment to work out where he was – Victor’s room. The sniffles? Victor. The man was sitting next to the futon, huge tears in the corners of his eyes.

Yuuri went from grumpy and sleepy to concerned and panicky in half a second.

“Victor! What’s wrong? Are you okay?” There was nothing visibly wrong with the other man – that was something, at least.

“Y-Y-Yuuri! Y-You’ve finally decided to come sleep with me and you DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME! I waited for ages in your room!”

Yuuri huffed.

“Well, I told you I don’t like it when you crawl into that tiny bed with me.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? You always go straight to sleep in that tiny thing.”

“You DO have a choice! You have this huge futon here!”

“That doesn’t count if you’re not in it.”

Groaning, he rubbed his temples – was he really having this conversation with Victor at ass o’clock? Of course he was.

“Victor, I’ve told you multiple times I just want to sleep in peace.”

“Well, then why do you insist on sleeping in that tiny bed?”

“Because…because it’s my bed? When we’re here, that’s where I sleep!”

Victor huffed.

“But why? This is the first time you’ve actually slept here.”

Yuuri shrugged. “It’s your room. I just figured since you WEREN’T sleeping here, I could.”

“What do you mean, you could? Yuuri you could ALWAYS sleep here. It’s our room.”

“What? No, it’s your futon, in your room. My room is upstairs. This is the room my parents always prepare for you.”

Victor snorted.

“Yuuuuri, you really can be dense. This is the room your parents prepare for us, a married couple. They have done for the last two years. YOU are the one who keeps not sleeping here.”

Yuuri sputtered, caught completely off-guard.

“But… but my room?”

“It’ll always be your room, but it just isn’t big enough. Are you seriously going to tell me you didn’t realise? That that’s why we’ve been sleeping in that tiny bed?”

Eyes narrowed, Yuuri glared at Victor.

“WE have only been sleeping in that tiny bed because YOU insist on it.”

“I DON’T! In fact, I’ve told you LOTS of times to stay out of it!”

“But Yuuri! We’re married, we HAVE to sleep in the same bed!”

“Says who?” He asked, his temper slowly rising.

Victor just flicked his hair back and gave him an annoyed look.

“The law? We’re married.”

“Victor… there is no such law.”

“There should be. Should be in the marriage vows, if you ask me.”

Groaning, Yuuri flopped back into the futon and did his best to stay calm. He loved Victor Nikiforov with all his heart, but sometimes the man just drove him absolutely mad.

“Goodnight!” Seemingly oblivious to Yuuri’s mood, Victor lifted the futon blanket and stretched out next to Yuuri, followed by Makka crawling in between them, just like at home.

Yuuri was still thinking about how, well, mad he was when he fell back asleep, cuddling his husband and dog.


End file.
